


Imprint

by CluelessKitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, DysFUNctional families, Families of Choice, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-16 17:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14169837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CluelessKitten/pseuds/CluelessKitten
Summary: When Jason gets de-aged, Tim must take him back to the Manor until they find a way to get him back to normal. Unfortunately, the spell has some peculiar side-effects...





	1. Chapter 1

Tim wants to wake up.

Tim really wants to wake up right  _now_.

Dear God, he has to be dreaming. Patrol has gone to utter  _shit_ : between running across a disgruntled Red Hood and getting caught in the crosshairs of a trigger-happy mage, who's  _escaped_  and managed to get a shot in at Hood before disappearing with a cackle and a flash of … whatever. Lightning? It doesn't matter.

What matters is that Tim is now doing damage control with a tiny, wailing figure swimming in the Red Hood's clothes.

Despite the noise, he'd scooped the figure into his arms – it was a kid's wriggling shape he could feel through the clothes – and got the both of them off the street. Hearing the wails had hurt something inside him – crying children have that sort of effect – but he'd put off fixing whatever was wrong until they were both somewhere relatively safe.

Now, Tim takes the helmet off as carefully as he can, watching out for safeguards and possible electric shocks.

The Red Hood is … kind of known for that. Aside from the guns, anyway.

A head comes out, along with a masked face. Not that the mask fits so well anymore, but it manages to hang on.

Jason – and it  _is_  still Jason, just … a hell of a lot younger – stops wailing. Then, he throws himself at Tim and, really, Tim is not good at this. Or prepared.

Even Red Robin has his limits.

Cautiously, Tim wraps his arms around him and makes shushing sounds. Jason doesn't comply when he tries gently pushing him away after a few seconds, and Tim leaves it be.

"Um. Jason," he says. Tim can only hope he can understand him or hear him properly despite having his face smushed into the Red Robin costume. Or that he's even paying attention.

Breathe, Tim. You can do this.

"What do you remember?"

A pause in the sobbing. Then "I don't know!" rings shrill in his ears.

That's … not very helpful. Except it is, because if he doesn't remember  _anything_ , not even things he should have known when he was whatever age he's been turned into now, then that could mean … a lot of terrible things about the spell used.

"Nothing at all?" Tim presses.

Face still buried in the suit, Jason shakes his head. His little hands cling to Tim like he trusts him, which is  _weird_. Jason grew up with the street smarts needed to survive in and around Crime Alley. He wouldn't trust anyone he didn't already know.

Of course, if he lost his memories…

"Do you know who I am?" Tim asks, desperation leaking into his voice. Almost miraculously, they don't have an established protocol for de-aged sort-of allies and, really, they shouldn't have to. There are some pretty crazy and strong villains in Gotham, but he can't remember anyone possessing both the inclination and capacity to actually de-age someone back to childhood.

It's just not something people think about going for when considering a defensive strategy.

None of that matters, though, as Jason pulls away from Tim somewhat to look at him. His tiny face scrunches in the effort of remembering.

"Dad?" he tries.

" _No_ ," Tim says, more forcefully than he meant to. Jason shrinks, and he bites back a curse. Jason's childhood was … not pleasant. Despite having magic-induced amnesia, it's still entirely possible his subconscious retains certain information or instincts.

He tries to smile. "Jason, I'm your brother."

Never mind that he's supposed to be the  _younger_  brother. Also, the one Jason hates with a fiery passion, if the murder attempts are anything to go by.

Jason's expression clears. "Oh." A beat. He looks around. "Where's Dad?"

Shit.

 

 

Since Jason did not turn back into his regular, surly age within the next ten minutes, there really wasn't much Tim could do besides take him back to the Batcave. He hands Jason off to Bruce and Alfred, gives them the rundown on what he knows happened, and gets an assurance that Zatanna will be contacted as soon as she can be reached.

Tim nods, then glances at Jason, who sits on the medical bed, being tended to by Alfred. There are bruises left over from the fight with the mage, with Tim, and probably from whatever else he'd run across on his patrol that night. Relatively, it's not too bad, if the de-aging isn't counted – though, personally, Tim does - but it goes a long way to explaining all the crying and clinging earlier.

"I'm four," Jason says, almost proudly.

Tim doesn't listen for Alfred's reply. Instead, he turns around and makes for his ride. Bruce's eyes keep drifting back towards Jason, and he understands that, he really does. Jason is his son, the one who won't come home – who can't, in the most complicated and hurtful ways. It's unsurprising Bruce would want to gravitate around him while he's so compliant.

"Was he like this before?" Tim can't help but ask as they watch the small boy submit to Alfred's tender care. He isn't sure whether or not he's grateful the demon brat's out on patrol with Dick at the moment. On the one hand, Damian isn't here to antagonize Jason, but on the other, Dick isn't here to handle the fact that there is a child version of Jason in the Cave.

Dick would know what to do about something like this. Dick would probably smother the kid in hugs and reassurances, and really? Jason probably could have done with more of that in his early years.

"Never exactly like this," Bruce says.

The Jason Bruce knew, even in the beginning, had had so many scars already. This Jason … doesn't.

Maybe that's a good thing.

Tim puts the helmet on – and then, Jason's attention is zeroed in on him in a way eerily reminiscent of the adult version's gaze. Awkwardly, Tim raises his hand to wave. He's not whether it's a goodbye or a 'hey, there', but he waves.

Jason hops off the bed and runs towards him.

"Where are you going?" he demands, little hands grabbing for Red Robin's cape.

"I'm heading out," Tim says, simply. He swings his leg over the other side of the bike, trying to ignore Jason's incredulous expression. "Bye, Jason."

He doesn't let go of the cape. "When are you coming back?"

Tim blinks. "Um…" His brain stalls. Reboots. Updates pending. "I don't really live here, but don't worry. Bruce and Alfred will take care of you."

"But you have to come back!" Little hands tug at his cape insistently, and with a small exhale, Tim gets off his bike. "You have to!"

"You're always welcome to stay, Tim," Bruce says, seriously.

And Tim can't. He can't see the home he no longer has a place in and be fine the way people want-expect-know him to be nowadays. He can't go into his old room, the room he trashed and then cleared out when he became Red Robin. There's only so much Tim can take, and this is not one of them.

So, he takes the helmet off and goes down on one knee like he'd done earlier when he first got Jason off the dark streets. "Jason. Bruce is your -  _our_  - dad; he'll take good care of you. And you're going to love Alfred."

"No!" Jason wails. "Don't go." He falls forward and clings to Tim, sobbing again and…

And Tim is tired.

"If I may, Master Timothy," Alfred says over the loud sobbing of a desolate child. "Perhaps it would be prudent to stay, at the very least for Master Jason's sake. We have rather missed you at the Manor, and it would do all of us good to have you here again."

Only Alfred can say something like that and make Tim believe it.

His head is starting to hurt. He blames the noise Jason makes.

"This predicament will likely only last one or two nights," Alfred adds after a beat, "If you truly cannot stay long."

Tim sighs slightly, his hand coming up to awkwardly pat Jason's back. "I'll be back after patrol."

God, he hopes he doesn't regret this.


	2. Chapter 2

Dick looks absolutely fascinated when he arrives in the Batcave with Damian. Batman must have alerted him to the current situation – Tim, on the other hand, was forced to return to the Batcave when Alfred contacted him via the comms signal, with the message that Jason had thrown a fit the moment he'd realized Tim was gone.

"Hey, Tim! So, I hear we have a little visitor?"

Tim swivels the chair, Jason in his arms, and sags in grateful relief when the toddler springs out away from him to investigate the new people. After he'd arrived again in the Cave, Bruce had reluctantly dragged himself away from Jason to investigate the site of their magical mishap, leaving his newly de-aged son in the self-admittedly incapable hands of his third adopted.

The opposite holds true for Dick. Kids love Dick, and Dick loves kids. More than that, Dick is  _good_  with children, which is amazing and exactly what they need right now.

Still the timing … could have gone better.

Tim pushes himself out of the chair to silently follow after Jason, who curiously looks over Dick without actually going too near him. Dick, for his part, goes down on one knee and smiles winningly at the kid. "Hey, there, Jay. I heard you were in a little accident tonight?"

Damian hangs back, watching and listening the younger version of Jason. Tim doesn't know what to make of his expression, what little of it can be seen despite the mask. Admittedly, he never really understand the brat's thought process, or just how much Dick's managed to influence him while Tim's been away. Dick stoutly vouches for Damian's efforts to be different, but Tim has personally yet to see any of the mentioned development.

Then again, he's been away for a while. Some things change; some things don't.

It doesn't really matter.

Squeals echo off the walls when Dick lifts Jason up into the air and sort of just … lifts him up and down before swinging him around. Dick tucks him close to his chest and delights him with tickles and his own deeper laughter.

Dick is good with kids.

Tim nods, the slightest downward dip of his chin. Jason is in good hands here: if Dick's claims about Damian's moral growth is true, then even the brat will try to look after him.

He turns towards the exit leading to the Manor..

One night. Maybe two, at the most.

"Tim? Tim! Where're you going?"

Jason's voice breaks through his thought process. When he turns around, the kid is squirming away from Dick and running towards him, almost falling over himself. Tim blinks but reaches out a hand when he tips dangerously forward.

"Up to the Manor. There are still some things I need to work on for tomorrow."

Jason frowns up at him. "But you're done! You finished patrol."

Tim laughs humorlessly. "Jay, I've got plenty more work than Red Robin. Go with Dick, he'll help you settle into your room." A room Jason has taken a vague dislike for, despite the fact that it's his old room, almost perfectly preserved from back when–

Oh.

Well.

Maybe he does remember some things.

Tim doesn't miss the sad look Dick throws at him when he puts his hand on Jason's shoulder to lead him off again, and Damian follows them. Tim pretends he doesn't see the way Jason's tiny hand reaches towards him before dropping partway. There's no one to see Tim take one look back before he leaves the Batcave and escapes to his old room.

 

 

Someone knocks on the door. Little raps from the lower half part, light and fast.

Tim pushes away from his laptop, rubbing bleary eyes. He has a WE meeting tomorrow morning, and he needs to finish up the slides and send them to Tam. It's getting closer to daylight, but this schedule isn't entirely unusual. He glances regretfully at his empty coffee mug – Alfred cut him off after his second helping.

Ah, the advantages of living alone.

A small blur not reaching past his knees crashes into his legs. A squeak that might be a jumble of words if he had the energy to decipher it emanates from toddler Jason.

Baby Jason?

Tiny Jason?

God, he needs coffee.

Feeling somewhat disconnected from the rest of his body, Tim places a hand atop Jason's head. "Sorry, Jay, what was that?"

"CanIsleepheretonight?"

Tim blinks, eyebrows furrowing. "You… Okay…?" He closes the door. "You don't like your bedroom?"

Jay's nose wrinkles even as he does a running jump onto the bed. The bedframe protests slightly at the sudden force, and Tim watches as the kid bounces slightly on impact.

"They gave me someone else's room," Jason complains. "And it was too big."

"It's your room." Tim can't help the need to point it out as he sits back down in his desk chair. "And this bedroom is about the same size as yours."

"Yeah, but I was the only one in it. This is lots emptier, though."

Tim turns back to his laptop. "I took my stuff out when I moved." Or he broke it. It wasn't a good time for him. Some of his things are still at the warehouse, come to think of it: boxes with bits of his life packed away in a faraway building.

"Aren't you gonna sleep?"

"I have work. Go to sleep, Jason."

A bit of shuffling behind him, and soft footsteps made by bare feet. When Tim looks around, he sees Jason standing again in his pajamas, this time with his arms crossed. "Dad says if you don't sleep eight hours a night, you won't grow right."

Oh, that is  _rich_.

"Did he now?" Tim drawls. "Interesting. I guess you better sleep right now, so you can grow fast, right? And I do mean vertically."

Jay stamps his little foot. "You need to sleep, too!"

He closes his eyes, slowly wipes a hand down his face. He is way too tired for this. "Jason…"

" _Tim_." Small hands curl into his nightwear and tug gently, insistently. "C'mon. Please?"

Tim sighs. Two nights maximum, right? "Only because you asked so nicely."

He lets Jason lead him by the shirt corner to bed, and he moves to turn out all the lights. But Jason turns the bedside lamp on, and Tim squints at the faint, orange glow. He's never used the lamp; it came with the room.

"Why the nightlight?"

Jason only shrugs, huffs, and buries himself under the covers. Tim watches the breathing lump for a long moment before shaking his head and lying down. He's slept in worse environments.

They face away from each other, backs touching.

He'll turn the light off when the sun comes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles. I'm afraid this is more a collection of drabbles than one cohesive story.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on ff.net.
> 
> I'm sorry, I don't know if I'll continue this...


End file.
